Matthew Shipp and Thirsty Ear have brought back something that was
largely missing in creative improvised music through their Blue Series
jazz linethe concept of the programmatic album as a viable medium
of expression. So much of today's music is culled from live performances.
The low cost and portability of high quality recording equipment makes
it possible for virtually every gig to be taped and archived. Add
to this commercial realities coupled with the high cash outlays often
necessary for studio time and the end result is a preponderance of
concert recordings serving as material for discs. Granted, most live
performances are inherently programmatic in nature, but not in the
same way as a preplanned studio album. Recordings like Coltrane's
A Love Supreme and Dolphy's Out To Lunch derive their
canonical status not only from the music they contain, but also from
the overall feel that the sequencing of the compositions creates.
It's this unwritten continuity that causes rabid fans of a particular
record to fume in anger when the session it was originally culled
from is carved up or resequenced into recorded order with alternate
takes spliced in to fit into the completist format of a box set.

Shipp and Thirsty Ear have recognized and acted upon these concerns
with the Blue Series, paring disc lengths down to near LP durations
and paying particularly close attention to the programmatic properties
of the albums they're releasing. Each one, from Shipp's inaugural
Pastoral Composure to this most recent offering, has the feel
of a cohesive suite, not just a series of tracks tied together under
an arbitrary name. Running through the core of the date among the
series of "Orbit" pieces is a haunting modal theme that recalls the
compositional touch of Keith Jarrett in its somber immediacy. Like
all highly memorable motifs it's one that will stick in the crevices
of attending ears long after the disc has ceased spinning. Shipp has
again chosen his comrades well. William Parker and Gerald Cleaver,
integral facets of the leader's first Blue Series effort, return and
adapt themselves well to the chamber music atmosphere of the leader's
charts. However, Wadada Leo Smith is the real focal point of the ensemble
pieces. His wide-open tone and ingenius command of space propel the
quartet through capaciously articulated phrasings. Shipp's lines are
in turn serious without being overly weighty. On "Paradox X" preparations
to piano create an almost celeste-like tone from Shipp's keys that
tangles beautifully with the tympani rumble of Cleaver's mallets.
The "Orbit" theme is explored in a variety of settings beginning with
complete quartet on the opening title track and moving to solo (Shipp
and Parker) and duet (Shipp/Parker) deconstructions on later versions.
Parker's smoldering arco exploration on "Orbit 3" is particularly
arresting in the harmonic implications that are uncovered in the meeting
between resinous bow and metallic strings.

Shipp makes the claim that this disc is the culmination of 10 years
and 17 recordings, "the album I've always wanted to make", in his
own words. This may seem like a bold statement geared toward self-promotion
on the surface, but the music in many ways bears out Shipp's assertion.
There's a programmatic cohesion and clarity of purpose that ties all
ten tracks together into a discrete, deeply satisfying unit. Listening
to the album in one sitting leaves the sense of a journey begun and
completed, a feeling that is often absent from creative improvised
music communicated within the parameters of the compact disc.